


Sleep Well

by Trumpeteer34



Series: Prompt Fills [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Community: avengerkink, Developing Relationship, Domestic Avengers, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Movie Night, Nightmares, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros, Sleep, Sleepiness, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:09:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trumpeteer34/pseuds/Trumpeteer34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the kinkmeme: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/17385.html?thread=39758825#t39758825</p><p>Bruce has trouble sleeping on his own, but when he is with a teammate, his body takes advantage of an opportunity for a chance to get some sleep.</p><p>Or five times Bruce Banner accidentally fell asleep on/around his teammates, and the one time he did it on purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep Well

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters present. They belong to Marvel. All other recognizable things belong to their respective owners. This was written entirely for fun.

There was a car alarm going off somewhere on a street close to the tower. The vehicle had only been honking for a few seconds, but as soon as that first car-horn sounded, Bruce was fully awake and ready to run.

And like each time he woke up in the middle of the night to sudden sounds or nightmares, it took a moment to remember that he was in Stark Tower, not in Brazil or India or any other country he had spent a length of time in in the past few years. He was in the middle of Manhattan, a bustling city day and night, a city that never slept.

The city’s insomnia must have been contagious. 

The car alarm stopped.

Bruce sighed.

==

** Steve **

“What are we watching, again?” 

Steve sat down on the middle cushion of the sofa, between Clint and Bruce, and placed the huge bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of them. He passed the archer a beer, and then handed Bruce one of the two non-caffeinated sodas he had grabbed.

As Bruce smiled his thanks, Clint grinned wide and snagged a handful of popcorn. “This, dear captain,” the archer said, gesturing at the lit up widescreen TV, “is your introduction to the world of _James Bond_.” On the screen, the opening title sequence to _Dr. No_ was paused. 

“Spy movies,” Bruce supplied helpfully at Steve’s right in a hushed voice.

Steve frowned slightly. “Shouldn’t we wait for Natasha before we watch these, then?” he asked. Tony had threatened bodily harm on anyone—especially Bruce—who introduced Steve to science fiction movies, namely _Star Wars_ or _Star Trek,_ without being present himself. 

As it was, Tony was over in Malibu with Pepper Potts for the week, handling business meetings and overlooking the construction of a new wing to the Stark Industries factory in California. Thor was in Asgard for the foreseeable future, and Natasha was on a solo mission somewhere in the world for some unknown duration of time.

Clint scoffed. “Natasha doesn’t see the charm in these movies,” he replied with an airy wave of his hand. “Something about poor technique and British imperialism, but what does she know?” He grinned again. “Alright, JARVIS, hit it.”

The movie was engaging enough, and before he knew it, Steve and Clint had demolished the popcorn supply.

Steve was about to ask Clint to pause the movie so he could go make some more, but came to a halt when he felt a light weight against his shoulder. When he glanced over, Bruce slumped more fully against his body, sound asleep.

The movie stopped, and he heard Clint let out a thoughtful noise. The soldier glanced over at him to find the archer watching Bruce. “I don’t know whether to be annoyed that he fell asleep during the movie, or relieved that he fell asleep at all.”

Steve responded with a thoughtful hum as he looked back over at Bruce. The dark shadows beneath the man’s eyes seemed like a permanent fixture upon Bruce’s face, a clear sign that he had a chronic sleeping problem. The physicist never seemed all that different if the shadows were darker on some days than others, leading Steve to believe that this had been an issue for a long enough time that Bruce knew how to work around it. It seemed like the only time the shadows had a chance of disappearing was after a transformation, when Bruce could sleep for several uninterrupted hours at a time, but the overall strain of the change ensured that the shadows remained. 

He was broken from his thoughts when Clint got to his feet. The archer picked up the empty popcorn bowl and flashed the soldier a quick grin before he retreated to the kitchen. A few seconds later, the sound of the whirring microwave filled the air, followed swiftly by the popping of kernels.

Bruce never stirred.

Steve smiled softly to himself and relaxed against the cushion. If it allowed Bruce to get some much-needed sleep, he didn’t mind playing body-pillow for a few hours, especially if Clint was as hell-bent on watching a few of these movies tonight.

==

Two and a half movies later, as the credits started to roll, Steve yawned into a fist. He glanced down at Bruce, who was still curled against him under the soldier’s arm. During the duration of the first movie, Steve had subtly readjusted himself and had cautiously put an arm around Bruce, careful not to wake him. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, as Bruce was completely _out._ He had never seen the man sleep so long in all the time that they’d been teammates. 

Clint had snuck peeks over at them during the other two movies and made leering comments about looking cozy. Steve rolled his eyes each time—but never answered that he was, in all honesty, quite cozy. 

Still, he was tired, and it was late.

But Bruce showed no sign of waking up, and Steve didn’t want to wake him up. He could feel Clint’s eyes on him as he gingerly tried to extract himself away without disturbing the man, but Bruce kind of clung to him.

Clint tried to stifle his snickers, but he obviously wasn’t putting much effort into it. “Need some help?” he offered between low laughs.

Steve sighed and sat back on the couch, and Bruce continued to sleep. “Can you grab a blanket?” he asked.

Clint grinned wide, but didn’t say anything as he moved off. 

The soldier cast a mildly scornful look down at the man clinging to him, but his features immediately softened. With another defeated sigh, he carefully shifted until he was lying across the couch with Bruce—miraculously still asleep—on top of him. How on earth could the man still be asleep after being moved around? 

The soldier felt a mild blush touch his cheeks, and knew it darkened when Clint snorted a laugh when he returned.

The archer threw the blanket over the pair on the couch. “You sure you want to sleep here, man? I’m sure we could wake him up.”

“I know we could,” Steve replied quietly, “but I haven’t seen him sleep this hard in our time here. He _never_ does this; he obviously needs the rest.”

Clint looked back down at Bruce, who hadn’t shown any signs of waking up at _all_ in the past five hours and who was currently cuddled against Captain America’s broad chest. “You’re right,” he said. His eyes returned to Steve’s. “Need anything before I turn in?”

“Nah,” Steve answered. “Go on and go to bed. Thanks for the Bond marathon.”

Clint bid the soldier good night, and then grinned at the sight of the two Avengers curled up together on the sofa before he disappeared.

Steve relaxed against the couch and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, focused on how he could feel Bruce’s chest expanding with each breath. He glanced down, but couldn’t see the man’s face past the greying curls. 

Well, he was comfortable, and Bruce was pleasantly warm. The soldier smiled a little to himself, and asked JARVIS to dim the lights to complete darkness.

==

He knew it was later than when he normally got up when Steve blinked awake. It was the slow brightening of the room that roused him out of sleep, and when he finally opened his eyes, he found the ceiling above him to be a grey with the predawn light. A quick peek at the window across the living room revealed a sky that was just starting to lighten. It was just before sunrise, so it was probably close to six fifteen in the morning.

Steve stared out the window for a second longer before he registered the weight still on top of him. When he glanced down, he was honestly surprised to see that the man was almost in the exact same position he had been in when Steve had fallen asleep. Bruce had been out for close to eleven hours now. The soldier wondered how little the physicist usually slept, if his body craved sleep like this.

And it appeared that those eleven hours weren’t enough, as Bruce was _still_ completely out. Had he not been able to hear the man’s breathing or feel his heartbeat, he would have been deeply concerned.

As it was, though, he was just glad the man had slept at all. Not wanting to disturb him, Steve turned his head and watched the sunrise.

Maybe half an hour later, when beams of sunlight had started to light up parts of the room and Steve felt himself being slowly dragged back into a doze, he finally felt Bruce shift against him. Immediately awake again, Steve glanced down to find that the physicist had turned his face into Steve’s chest, probably to escape from the sunlight.

Suddenly, Steve felt a little awkward, and his eyes quickly darted up to the ceiling. He hadn’t thought of a way to explain this to Bruce, even if he wasn’t the one to fall asleep against the man. He waited for Bruce to say something, be it an embarrassed apology or a mortified curse, or a demand to know why Steve had let him sleep against him all night.

Instead, Bruce shifted just a little bit again against him, and when no remark came, Steve slowly glanced back down. 

Bruce was squinting across the room at the window, looking disoriented. He blinked hazily, and then he glanced up and met Steve’s eyes. A passing thought went through the soldier’s head that the man looked almost adorably sleepy. He hadn’t seen Bruce like this before, awake but not quite aware, without being surrounded by destruction after a well-fought battle.

The scientist blinked again, and then settled his head back down on Steve’s chest. Something like minute panic went through the soldier when he thought Bruce was going back to sleep, until Bruce spoke.

“What time is it?” the man asked, voice gravelly and soft with misuse and sleep.

Steve continued to watch him. “It’s almost seven in the morning,” he replied. “Did you, uh…did you sleep alright?”

Bruce made a noncommittal noise in response, and since Steve had no idea how to interpret it, he remained silent. 

The physicist brought a hand up to rub at his eyes, but when he felt fabric instead of the skin of his palm, he paused. Bruce drew back his blanket-covered hand and stared at the cloth for a long moment, eyes narrowed. Steve had to bite back a grin—the man was seriously groggy and clearly not functioning at his usual levels of brain-activity.

“Clint covered us with a blanket before he headed to bed,” the soldier explained, taking pity on the half-asleep man who was puzzling over the fabric.

“Oh,” Bruce replied, and then shook his hand free from the confines of the blanket to rub at his eyes. “Did you enjoy the movie?”

Steve smiled softly to himself, watching the man incrementally wake up. “I did,” he answered. “We watched two more after you fell asleep. They were all pretty good.”

Bruce yawned into a fist and slowly started to sit up, moving carefully. Steve moved with him, helping the man sit up while drawing his legs away so the cushions would be clear. Once they were both upright, they both stretched. There was a series of pops as Bruce arched against the back of the sofa, and when he settled back into the couch, a breath of relief escaped from him. 

The pair sat there for a few minutes in silence, looking out the window at the new day, before Steve picked up the blanket that had fallen to the floor and started to fold it. Bruce’s groggy eyes followed the movement with disinterest, and then his brow furrowed suddenly. 

Steve paused, staring at Bruce with nervous anticipation. 

Bruce finally turned his bleary eyes and met the soldier’s stare. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, electing just to stare at the soldier. Finally he spoke. “Would you like some tea?”

A relieved laugh escaped from Steve before he could stop himself. He smiled at the other man. “I don’t think I quite trust you around the stove at the moment,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll get the water going.”

It wasn’t until they were both sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for their tea to cool, that Bruce spoke again. “Sorry about last night,” he said in a low murmur, sounding more awake now that he was up and moving. “I guess I was really tired…”

Steve gave the man a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it, Bruce,” he replied, and when the physicist gave him a small smile, equal parts embarrassed and relieved, Steve couldn’t help but return it.

==

** Clint **

It was close to three in the morning when Clint entered the gym, bow in hand and quiver slung across his back. The lights were already on when he walked in, albeit at a low setting, which the archer found odd until he spotted a figure sitting on a mat across the room.

Bruce was seated in a meditative position, legs bent in and wrists resting on his knees with his back straight. The man was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and was barefoot. His eyes, which had been closed, opened when he heard Clint’s boots against the hard floor and immediately found the newcomer.

Even from where he was standing, way across the gym, Clint could see that the man’s eyes were a radioactive green. Clint instantly froze and stared straight back at the physicist. “Should I come back later?” he asked, his voice easily carrying across the gym.

The physicist’s bright green irises remained on the archer for a second more before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “No,” Bruce answered calmly on the exhale, “you can come on in.” When he opened his eyes back up, they were his normal brown again. He smiled a little ruefully. “Sorry about that, I—”

“Hey man, no worries. I just don’t want to interrupt,” Clint cut in with an easy grin as he stepped further into the room.

“You’re not interrupting.” Bruce’s eyes followed him, and he shifted until he was seated more comfortably on the mat. “When did you get back?” he asked.

“About an hour ago,” the archer replied as he came to a stop at the shooting range. “My level-three security threat turned out to be a cake-walk.”

The physicist offered a knowing hum. “Restless energy, then,” he said. 

“Bingo,” Clint affirmed, turning a smile toward Bruce. There would be no way he would be able to fall asleep with all of the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The best way to get rid of it was to shoot. “How about you?” he asked, drawing an arrow. “Rough night?”

No answer came as Clint notched the arrow and aimed at the target down the runway. Quiet filled the gym, and the archer just breathed, relishing the feel in his muscles as he held the arrow taut, ready to be fired. He released the arrow, and it wasn’t until after the satisfying thunk of it embedding in the target that he got a response.

“Nightmare,” Bruce finally said. When Clint glanced over, he saw that the man had shifted again to where he could watch the archer. There was something haunted about his expression. The scientist offered a mild shrug and glanced down at the mat he was seated on. “I’ve just been calming the Other Guy down.”

Clint frowned and turned more fully to look at him. “How long have you been down here?”

“A couple hours,” Bruce answered with another shrug. When nothing more was said between them for a few moments, the physicist looked back at Clint. “You can keep going,” he offered with a smile. “You really aren’t interrupting.”

The archer grinned, and as he returned to his target practice, Bruce returned to his meditation/yoga. 

A comfortable silence fell between them, only disrupted by the sound of arrows hitting their targets. Out of the corner of his eye, Clint watched Bruce shift into other stretches until he slowly laid out on the floor, on his back with his limbs stretched out.

(Clint remembered the first time he saw that position, when he was training with Tony. The engineer had paused to glance over at his lab partner. “Did you give up?” Tony had asked, humor lacing his words. 

“It’s called Savasana, or the Corpse Pose,” Bruce had replied serenely without opening his eyes. “It’s relaxing.”

Tony had been about to offer further comment, but he never got the chance, as Clint forced him to focus back on their training.)

Clint continued his shooting practice until there was a pleasant ache in his muscles. It wasn’t until he started to walk down the way to gather his arrows that he realized Bruce was still in the same position, close to an hour later. His brow furrowed, and he suddenly realized that Bruce had dozed off at some point in that pose.

He snorted a laugh; the position must have been relaxing, if the man was able to fall asleep on the gym mat. 

The archer collected his arrows from the target and carefully went about unscrewing the arrow heads to return the two separate pieces back into their appropriate spots in his quiver. As he worked, Bruce never stirred.

Once he was finished, he contemplated leaving the gym to head back to his room, but he paused and immediately looked back at Bruce. The man had been down here for hours after a nightmare, working to calm down the presence inside of him. And who knew how long after Clint had come down, he had fallen asleep, and from the look of it, was sleeping very peacefully.

Clint stared over at Bruce for a moment longer before he came to a decision. He gently set his bow and quiver on a nearby bench and kicked off his boots. He padded lightly over to the mat the physicist was asleep on and gently laid himself down a little further away. The mat wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he had slept on far worse during missions. He was sure Bruce had slept on worse, too.

As he closed his eyes, JARVIS dimmed the lights a little further until a comfortable darkness hung over them, and he fell asleep.

==

“Oh no, they killed each other.”

Clint’s eyes shot open and he turned to look toward the source of the amused voice that had woken him up. Next to him, he heard Bruce wake up with a startled snort.

Tony and Natasha were standing in the doorway to the gym, one with a hint of curiosity to her expression, and the other grinning widely.

“Not dead,” Clint muttered as he sat up. His body wasn’t exactly happy with him for sleeping on the mat, but it was nothing a few stretches couldn’t fix. He glanced over at Bruce, who was still lying flat on his back and peering over at the two newcomers. “What the hell are you two doing down here?”

“Practice,” Tony answered casually as they approached, even as Natasha replied “Working on his hand-to-hand combat.”

Clint grinned. “Well, he needs it,” he replied to the redhead as he stretched a little.

He didn’t need to be looking to know that the engineer had rolled his eyes. “I’m hurt, Bird Feathers,” Tony said sarcastically. “Now, what the hell are _you_ two doing down here?”

“Late night exercise,” Bruce answered, drawing the archer’s eyes back to him. The man had made no move to get up.

“Uh huh,” Tony responded, drawing up to a stop next to Bruce. He leaned forward a little to look straight down at his friend. “How’s that _savannah-scarra_ thing working out for you?”

“Savasana,” Bruce corrected the other scientist, but there was an open smile on his face. It almost made the man look a few years younger, Clint realized. “I told you it’s relaxing.”

“I bet,” Tony said. He offered Bruce a hand up, which Bruce took gratefully. 

Clint turned a private look toward Natasha, who returned it for only a second before she started to corral Tony toward the boxing ring.

==

** Tony **

“No, that’s a seven-eighths wrench,” Tony sighed in mock exasperation, handing the tool back to the robotic claw next to him. “The _nine-tenths_ wrench, DUM-E. _Nine-tenths.”_

As the bot took the wrench from his creator’s hand and went to scrounge around for the proper tool that was _apparently_ hidden somewhere in the basement of the tower, Tony stuck his head back under the hood of his 1959 Ferrari, muttering to himself about the use of having help that didn’t listen. He had had to turn down his music just so he didn’t have to keep repeating himself for his robot, but it seemed like that hadn’t even helped.

He was just starting to grouse to himself about needing to go into DUM-E’s circuits to see if there was a loose wire somewhere when a wrench appeared in his peripheral vision.

“This what you’re looking for?” came a very familiar voice.

Tony grabbed the tool and looked it over with a grin. “A bit below your pay-grade, Big Guy, but you’d make a very fine assistant.” He pulled his head out from the inside of the car and glanced over his shoulder at his friend, but his next comment withered and died in his throat when he actually saw the man.

Namely, the shaken look in Bruce’s eyes and the paleness that had drained away the sun-kissed tan on his face.

Tony blinked and wondered vaguely what time it was. He knew it was after midnight, but that information didn’t really help him out all that much. The engineer knew his friend well enough by now to know when Bruce was trying to mask the aftereffects of a brutal nightmare, which was definitely what was happening now. Given that Bruce had gone off to bed around midnight, it probably had to be something like two-thirty in the morning.

“Do you want to pull up a chair and give me a hand?” Tony asked, offering a distraction that he knew Bruce needed.

The physicist snorted a small laugh, but it sounded forced. “You’d actually let me touch one of your precious cars?” he asked, half-joking.

“It’ll give you an appreciation of the finer things in life,” Tony rejoined. He tilted his chin in the direction of the closest stool. “You wanna?”

Bruce studied Tony for a long moment, and then looked into the car for a moment, before he shook his head. “Not tonight,” he said softly, glancing down and away. “I…I kind of just don’t want to be alone right now…” 

Tony’s eyes went over Bruce’s face again, concern flowing through him. “Well…” he started to say, and paused when the other man glanced back at him, looking slightly ashamed, slightly lost, and slightly hopeful. The engineer lit up on that last one and offered a smile. “Well, make yourself at home. I’ve still got a ways to go on this, so I’ll be here for a while.”

The smile that appeared on the man’s face was full of relief and gratitude, and Tony couldn’t help but smile back. 

Tony dove straight back into his car to keep working, loosening a few nuts and bolts with the wrench Bruce had given him. He heard a car door open and shut, and pulled himself back out of the engine to glance over at the sleek 1953 Corvette convertible Bruce had gotten into. The sight of the man in the passenger’s seat of the vintage sports car did things to Tony’s stomach and brought very interesting mental images to his head.

“It would seem you already have an appreciation of the finer things,” he said instead, grinning widely when Bruce rolled his eyes fondly at him. The physicist settled against the cushion of the single seat that made up both the passenger and driver seats and tilted his head back, closing his eyes.

Tony remained still for a long moment, simply watching the other man. He tried to think of some comment he could say, but really, there wasn’t anything to say. Bruce had granted him a sanctuary when Tony had nightmares and didn’t want to talk about it; it was only fair that he offered the same to Bruce. 

So instead, he plunged back into the Ferrari, hoping that the sound of tinkering was calming his friend down. From time to time, he heard Bruce chuckle when Tony would scold DUM-E for bringing him _another_ wrong tool, and he knew that his buddy would be alright.

Close to three hours later, Tony was finally done. He pulled himself out of his Ferrari and wiped his oil-slicked hands off on a rag offered by DUM-E. He started to reach for the hood to shut it, but paused and glanced over at the Corvette, where Bruce had been sleeping soundly for the past two and a half hours. 

Tony abandoned the hood of the vehicle and moved off toward the sink on the far wall. “Alright, DUM-E, let’s call it a night.”

The robot chirped contently and started to pick up tools that were lying about on the floor. 

“No, no,” Tony said, pausing in his walk to the sink to wash his hands. “You’ll wake Bruce up, and that is unforgivable. Clean up tomorrow afternoon.”

Once he had washed off the rest of the oil and sweat from his hands, Tony walked back to the Corvette, pausing only briefly to grab a cloth tarp along the way. He walked around the sports car and gingerly opened the driver’s side door and slipped onto the seat. 

He hadn’t considered that his added weight would jostle the car, and as he closed the door, he felt a sudden weight land on his torso. Tony glanced down to see that Bruce was now leaned against him, and hadn’t even woken up.

A smile twisted the engineer’s lips at the sight and feel of Bruce against him. The tarp, which he had grabbed to use as a blanket, was instead placed between his back and the car door to serve as a pillow. It wasn’t super comfortable, but as Tony pulled Bruce up to lie against his chest, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The pair settled against each other, sprawled out across the seat of the vintage convertible, and Tony felt himself smile.

“Good night, JARVIS,” Tony said, unable to keep the smug happiness from his voice.

 _“I bet it is, sir,”_ was the AI’s snarky reply as he dimmed the basement lights, and Tony grinned.

==

** Thor **

When Thor stepped off the elevator and onto the communal floor, he could hear his fellow comrades in a heated discussion. Curious, he followed the voices into the living room, where he found Bruce and Tony speaking about games, with Steve seated on the sofa, watching the pair of scientists with a look that was something like amusement and exasperation.

“Is something amiss?” Thor questioned as he sat down next to Steve on the sofa.

Before the soldier had an opportunity to answer, Tony whirled around and faced the demigod. “Bruce, here, is too above video games to engage in a spurring session of _team-building exercises,”_ he explained.

Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes, but there was nothing heated in his expression. “I am not above video games, Tony, but believe me when I say that _this—”_ He gestured at the television screen, where a menu was currently displayed “—is not something that will bring us together as a team, especially if you’re playing to win.”

“Meaning?” Tony asked, crossing his arms.

“That I’m horrible at first-person shooting games,” Bruce replied. “This is more up Clint’s alley, and—isn’t this his game?”

Steve cleared his throat. “Tony, Bruce really doesn’t have to play if he doesn’t want to. Two people are enough, right?”

Tony turned a disgusted look at the soldier. “One computer-player is bad enough, but you want _two?”_

The soldier didn’t appear to understand what the engineer meant, but he looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, Thor, would you like to play?” he asked, turning a questioning gaze at the Asgardian next to him.

Thor looked between his three teammates, and then over at the screen, where human figures were limping around on a darkened street. “I am afraid I do not know how to play,” he began, “but if you two would be so kind as to play a round, I will surely get the gist of it and join in on the next quest.”

As Steve turned around to give Tony a _there, see?_ look, the engineer huffed and pointed a finger at the other scientist. “You have to watch,” he threatened.

“Shall I also cheer for you?” Bruce inquired, completely deadpan.

A grin spread on Tony’s face. “I am one hundred percent okay with that,” he said, and there was just a hint of something leering in the teasing words. Thor glanced back over to catch the physicist’s response, but it was nothing more than another fond eye-roll.

The demigod glanced between the two scientists for a moment longer before he glanced back over at the screen. “What is the goal of this game?” he asked.

Tony turned a grin on the Asgardian. “To shoot zombies and make it out of each stage alive.”

“A stirring tale of battle against dead-walkers, then!” Thor replied enthusiastically as he jumped to his feet, which made Steve and Bruce smile and Tony laugh. “This calls for beverages.”

When he returned with a small collection of beers and soda, there was a loading screen on the television. His three teammates were gathered on the large sofa in front of the screen, where Tony was instructing Steve on how to hold the controller properly.

“Here, Thor,” Bruce said as the demigod approached, scooting over to give him some room. 

“Thank you, friend,” Thor replied with a wide smile as he sat down between Bruce and Tony. As he started handing out the drinks, the Asgardian thought he saw protest in the engineer’s eyes, but neither of them got a chance to comment on it, for the game had just started.

The game seemed interesting enough, and while Steve quickly grew comfortable with the controls, their cohesiveness as a team was lacking. The two non-player characters were practically useless, which Tony commented on countless times with more and more colorful profanities every chance he got, which made them all laugh.

There was a point on the third level of the game in which the characters were being mobbed by a huge group of zombies. Things were looking bad, and then a hulking zombie appeared on the screen—the Tank was what Tony had called it.

Things quickly went downhill from there.

“Steve, you set me on fire!” Tony yelled as his character went down.

“You told me to use the Molotov when that one appears!” Steve shot back, even as his character was thrown across the screen after taking a brutal hit from the furious Tank. 

Next to him, Bruce was chuckling softly to himself.

“Bruce, it’s not funny! You’re supposed to be cheering for us!” Tony accused, leaning forward to peer around the demigod at the other scientist.

“Part of me wants to cheer for that guy,” Bruce joked, gesturing at the screen where the Tank was delivering the final blows against Steve’s character.

Tony let out a surprised bark of a laugh to hear the physicist joke about the Hulk. “Alright, I’ll give you that one, but you still need to cheer for us.”

“You’ll do better next time,” Bruce offered, turning a sweet smile over at the engineer.

As Tony opened his mouth to make what was sure to be a snarky comeback, Thor laughed. “They surely will!” he declared. “I believe I am quite ready to give this a sporting try.”

“That’s the spirit, Thor,” Steve said brightly as he passed over a new controller, even as his character finally died on the screen.

It was an interesting game. Despite the lack of familiar weapons, the demigod quickly got a hang of the controls, and between the three of them, they made a pretty good team. They played through two complete games in what felt like the blink of an eye. 

In the middle of their third game, Thor realized that Bruce had been awfully quiet for quite some time. When he glanced down, he was surprised to see that the man was leaning against him and fast asleep; he hadn’t even registered the weight of the other man, as his focus had been solely on the game.

Thor smiled and returned his attention to the screen. “It appears we have lost our rouser of good cheer,” he said.

“What?” Tony leaned forward to look over at Bruce.

“Oh dear.” Thor glanced over to find Steve peering at Bruce, too. “Hopefully he won’t be out for as long as when he did that to me.”

“Wait, what?” Tony immediately whipped his head around to look at the soldier. “When did he fall asleep against you? Is this a common thing?” 

If Thor didn’t know any better, he could have sworn he heard something like jealousy in the man’s voice, and wasn’t that odd? 

Steve just kind of waved his hand and returned his focus to the video game. “I think he has trouble sleeping, so I’m glad he feels comfortable enough around us to actually sleep.”

As they were getting back to playing the game, Thor noticed Tony glancing over at this sleeping lab partner from the corner of his eye. The Asgardian had to bite back the knowing smile that threatened to appear.

==

** Natasha **

“Why, exactly, do I need to be there for this?” Natasha asked as she allowed Clint to pull her along by her hand toward the elevator.

“Because,” the archer began, turning a grin over his shoulder at her, “these are apparently some of the worst sci-fi movies of all time, and it’ll be hilarious.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “If by hilarious, you mean Steve and Thor being entirely confused while Tony and Bruce trade quips back and forth, it’s been done before.”

“You can’t say you’re not curious,” Clint remarked as they stepped into the elevator, which immediately began to lift them up to the communal level. He released her hand to gesture enthusiastically with both of his. “It’ll be great. When was the last time we all watched a movie together that wasn’t after a battle, when we’re all too exhausted to actually care about the movie?”

She had to admit, he had a point. 

“Fine,” Natasha said at last.

Clint grinned wide at her as the elevator doors opened. Immediately, they were hit with the smell of freshly popped popcorn. 

Natasha followed the archer out of the elevator and into the living room, where the coffee table had been set up with a few bowls of popcorn and a few bowls of chips. Apparently, this was going to be a long marathon of bad sci-fi. The assassin cringed internally.

“Ah, good, that’s everyone,” Tony said as he appeared around the corner of the kitchen with a beer in hand. “Help yourselves to a drink in the kitchen and then grab a seat.”

“I didn’t realize you were going all out for this,” Clint said as he eyed the snacks on the coffee table. “Need to mark the occasion?”

As he passed by, the engineer patted the archer lightly on the shoulder. “Our dear captain and resident god have never seen this side of the genre. Believe me, it’s worth marking the occasion.” He grinned over at Natasha. “Red, grab a drink. Glad you could join us on this special day.”

“I wasn’t allowed to miss it,” Natasha replied, cutting her eyes to the archer.

By the time she and Clint had returned from the kitchen, beers in hand, the rest of the team had seated themselves on the furniture. Thor and Steve had taken the loveseat, while Tony was seated against the armrest of the large sofa with Bruce next to him.

Clint grabbed the seat at the other end of the sofa, and Natasha sat down between him and Bruce. The physicist offered her a smile of greeting, which she returned easily. If there was one thing that had changed drastically in the months living in the tower with this team, it was her relationship with Dr. Banner. While they weren’t necessarily close, she could still safely say that they were friends.

“Alright, it looks like we’re ready to begin,” Tony announced. He turned a wicked grin on the two men in the loveseat. “Are you ready?”

“Most certainly,” Thor replied after he had swallowed his gulp of beer.

“I can hardly stand the suspense,” Steve deadpanned, turning an unimpressed look toward the engineer.

“Alright then,” Tony said as he leaned back against the sofa, looking satisfied. “JARVIS, start _The Creeping Terror.”_

Next to her, Bruce let out a groan. “We’re starting with _that one?”_ he asked, turning a pained look at the man next to him.

Tony grinned wide at the physicist, eyes alight with mirth, but didn’t answer.

They all suffered through the movie, and though she would never admit it aloud, she really did rather enjoy seeing the look of abject confusion on both Steve’s and Thor’s faces, and actually did find some of the quips the two scientists made amusing.

The next movie, _Space Mutiny,_ was met with even more confusion and bits of hysterical laughter at the absurdity of the film.

It wasn’t until they started watching _The Brain that Wouldn’t Die,_ somewhere after midnight, that Natasha felt the weight next to her shift ever-so-slightly. She immediately looked away from the disaster of a movie on the screen and looked over at Bruce, just in time for his head to rest gently on her shoulder.

As Bruce settled against her, fast asleep, she felt the entirety of the attention of the room fall on her. She did a quick scan of the room. Clint, of course, looked amused and was trying to bite back a grin without success. Steve looked vaguely horrified and sympathetic, and Thor, interestingly, wasn’t looking at her and Bruce at all, but at Tony.

And when her eyes turned to the engineer, he was staring at Bruce with betrayal in his eyes and a pout on his face. She managed to keep the snort of amusement from escaping past her lips.

Instead, she turned her eyes back to Steve, who went rigid under her attention. “Does he drool?” she asked bluntly. After he slowly shook his head, Natasha settled back against the sofa and let Bruce relax against her. “Then he’s fine.”

And he was. He was actually comfortably warm.

One-by-one, the rest of the team returned their attention to the movie. When she felt only one pair of eyes lingering on her, she turned to peer over at Tony, who was staring at her. “Don’t worry, Stark. After this movie, he’s yours.”

She heard Steve sputter on the beer in his mouth, and both Clint and Thor tried to stifle their laughs of amusement. Tony, on the other hand, simply regarded her with cool eyes. After a moment of staring, he smirked at her. “Deal.”

With that, the five awake Avengers all returned to the awful movie on the screen. 

And after _This Island Earth_ had started, and Bruce was settled in against Tony, she couldn’t fight the smile that appeared on her lips at the contentedness that was transparently clear on both of their faces.

==

** +1 Bruce **

The first thought that came to mind as he started waking up in increments was just how much he missed waking up in someone’s arms. He would say that it had been a long time since he had woken up being held in another person’s embrace, but strangely, it had been happening more often. 

Bruce blinked his eyes open and glanced around. The laboratory had been dimmed from its normal lighting, and the previous night’s memories came back to him.

Instead of feeling the panic that he would have expected, though, it only brought a happy smile to his lips. 

Tony shifted minutely behind him and pulled Bruce closer against him. The physicist treasured the feel of the man’s solid weight behind him, the warmth that enveloped him from the top of his neck and down to his feet from where Tony was spooned up close against him. He gingerly lifted a hand and let it fall atop one of Tony’s, and their fingers entwined like they had been doing this for years.

But the one thing he had only very recently learned was just how skilled of a kisser Tony Stark was. 

It hadn’t escalated past that, and it hadn’t needed to. It started with a celebratory kiss that Tony had pressed to his lips in the heat of the moment, and while he could wish that it had come as little surprise, the kiss had caught him off guard. 

But when Tony had drawn back, looking at him with intense and almost panicked eyes, Bruce had taken the plunge, reclosing the gap between them and returning the kiss. He would never forget the feeling of Tony’s lips against his as they twisted into a smile before kissing him back enthusiastically.

They had migrated to the couch in the corner of the lab, where they had proceeded to make-out like horny teenagers, and it was wonderful.

Bruce was brought out of his thoughts when he felt Tony shift against him again, followed by the press of lips against the back of his neck, just above the collar of his shirt. What he was sure to be a foolish smile crossed the physicist’s face at the touch.

“Mornin’, Big Guy,” Tony mumbled against his neck, his voice deep and rough with sleep. “How are you doin’?”

Moving carefully, Bruce twisted until he was on his side, facing Tony. “Feel like I’m dreaming,” he answered softly, eyes shifting to catch each detail of Tony’s face he could make out without his glasses.

Tony smiled, and it lit up the lines around his eyes and Bruce smiled back. They stayed like that for a long time, lying in each other’s arms on the couch, and Bruce couldn’t think of anywhere else he would rather be. 

He felt his eyelids growing heavy, and he knew that Tony was starting to doze off again. “Go back to sleep,” he said to the engineer, even as he felt himself slipping into a pleasant doze.

His eyes opened minutely when he felt Tony shifting them into a more comfortable position. Bruce was pushed lightly onto his back, and Tony curled up against him, using his shoulder as a pillow and wrapping an arm around Bruce’s chest. 

Bruce smiled, and a burst of happiness went through him. One arm went around Tony’s body to hold him close, his hand snaking its way into the engineer’s hair, while his other hand gently landed over Tony’s hand on his chest. He planted a kiss against Tony’s forehead, and chuckled lowly at the happy sound it got out of the engineer.

They both drifted back to sleep, happy and safe in each other’s arms.


End file.
